151    C.M.     J. Hart
Christ the Believer’s Surety. Mark 2. 5; John 10. 15

1 What slavish fears molest my mind,
  And vex my sickly soul!
  How is it, Lord, that thou art kind,
  And yet I am not whole?

2 [Ah! why should unbelief and pride,
  With all their hellish train,
  Still in my ransomed soul abide,
  And give me all this pain?

3 Thy word is past, thy promise made;
  With power it came from heaven;
  “Cheer up, desponding soul,” it said,
  “Thy sins are all forgiven.

4 “Behold, I make thy cause my own;
  I bought thee with my blood;
  Thy wicked works on me be thrown,
  And I will work thy good.

5 “I am thy God, thy Guide till death,
  Thy everlasting Friend;
  On me for love, for works, for faith,
  On me for all depend.”]

6 Thy blood, dear Lord, has brought my peace,
  And paid the heavy debt;
  Has given a fair and full release,
  But I’m in prison yet.

7 Unjustly now these foes of mine
  Their devilish hate pursue;
  They made my Surety pay the fine,
  Yet plague the prisoner too.

8 What right can my tormentors plead,
  That I should not be free?
  Here’s an amazing change indeed!
  Justice is now for me.

9 Lord, break these bars that thus confine,
  These chains that gall me so;
  Say to that ugly gaoler, Sin,
  “Loose him, and let him go.”